


True North

by glasgow_blue



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-13
Updated: 2004-04-13
Packaged: 2018-09-15 07:42:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9225341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glasgow_blue/pseuds/glasgow_blue





	

For [](http://southpaw526.livejournal.com/profile)[**southpaw526**](http://southpaw526.livejournal.com/) : _cobalt, dom, billy, meditate_

With thanks to [](http://taibhrigh.livejournal.com/profile)[**taibhrigh**](http://taibhrigh.livejournal.com/), who convinced me that it does not suck out loud.

410 words. v3.5.2

 

 

Dom does not like to fly.

It's not about being scared of crashing, or of enclosed spaces, or even of being hijacked and flown into the side of a building. When it's your time to go, it's your time to go. He's just...uncomfortable with the thought of the ground being so very far away. Not heights. Distance. He likes his feet on mother earth, likes to know that she's got a firm hold on him.

He's no ranger cum cowboy, but Dom's got a way with her. They've got an agreement and being way up here feels like a betrayal of sorts. He never thought to enter a contract with father sky.

He tries to meditate, but the thrum of the engines enters his bloodstream and changes the rhythm of his heart and, frankly, that's more disturbing than the thought of two deities warring over his allegiance.

Sleep is simply out of the question. The seat reclines all the way back and they've provided him with a little kit of blinders, ear plugs, and toothpaste. A pretty flight attendant will all but tuck him in and fluff his pillow, but Dom always dreams of being flung out into space when he flies. Instead, he gets out a pen and begins to count the threads in the upholstery, naming the shades of blue by writing them onto the skin of his forearm.

Lapis, azure, midnight, cobalt, navy. Sky, aqua, indigo, sapphire. Cerulean. Royal.

On the ground, there are things to take your bearing by. Mountains to the east. Ocean to the west. Desert to the south. Up here, there is only endless sky and the word of the pilot, who tells them that they are currently heading on a northeasterly course toward Iceland. He imagines long lines of green energy tethering him to the earth below and promises not to swear the next time gravity wins an argument. For good measure, he also promises to praise the sky every morning when he wakes.

At the gate in Glasgow, he reaches for his cell phone. The agreement was that Dom would make his own way through the city--no use in gathering a crowd at baggage claim. But he clears Customs and his feet begin to move of their own accord, winding their way through fellow travelers and airport personnel. Something is tugging at his gut, leading him past the shops and to a lounge on the second floor.

There, Billy waits.  



End file.
